Some Things Never Do Change
by Cavanaugh Park
Summary: RJ and LL: She's always been told death is only the beginning... Now death is a reality. UPDATED 07.11
1. Some Things Never Do Change

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Gilmore Girls, I'm just using the characters for my own enjoyment.

Rating: This story is rated R for mild swearing and allusions to suicide. Please don't read it if you aren't comfortable with the subject matter. Thanks!

A/N: This is the first story I've ever posted, so some feedback would be phenomenal. As always, thanks for taking the time to read my story. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Some Things Never Do Change

She comes home and slams the door, the sound slicing through the silence of the house. It always seemed silent now, at least to her. She stomped into her room and slammed the door, releasing only a small fraction of the anger she wants to unleash on anybody...on him. Holding back tears of frustration she slammed open her dresser drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas before tearing off her clothes. Stripping off her clothes made her feel like she was stripping herself of him. When she had reached the bare basics, she grabbed her pajamas and stormed into the bathroom, making sure the door was locked behind her. Reaching into the shower she turned the water to the highest temperature before stopping the drain to allow the bath to fill. As the steam rose and the condensation gathered on the mirror, she caught her reflection out of the corner of her eye. 

Stopping, she turned and studied herself for awhile, having not seen her real image in a very long time. Much to her dismay, she'd changed, and it wasn't for the better. Surveying her image she was almost shocked to discover the subtle differences in her body. A year ago she hadn't looked like this. The bags under her eyes, the sallow skin pulled taut against her face, the ribs poking through her stomach. This wasn't her, this wasn't Rory.

In shock she tentatively reached out a hand to the mirror and traced the bones that emerged in her shoulders and stomach. Tracing a line up to her face, she gently maneuvered her finger to her lips, then her cheeks, finally resting on her eyes. This small movement was a comfort to her, and she almost felt the caress of the finger upon the glass like it was really upon her face. But her eyes...

Her eyes troubled her. She could see the heartbreak, the pain, the denial in their depths, and she turned away in self-disgust, allowing her hand to drop away from the mirror and return to her side, breaking the seemingly life-sustaining contact that proved to her that she was indeed the image of failure she saw in the mirror. Had it only been a year?

It certainly felt longer, she decided, as she stopped into the water in the tub and slowly sank in. The burning sensation of the water against her skin was almost hot enough to scald, yet it was a healing device, and she felt the heat purifying her body. Only her body, never her soul. She took a breath and submerged under the water, allowing herself to get lost in the sea of quiet. Everything made sense under here. It was perfect.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling, pondering how the water reflected against the outer surfaces, and rippled, distorting her view, yet making it seem perfectly clear. As her lungs began to burn, she wondered if this was somewhat like death. The detachment. The comfort. The silence. She thought that death must not be so bad if this is what it's like, because living is certainly never like this. In a way, her life was like living under the water. She was trapped, and everything seemed distorted. All because of him.

With this, she sat up quickly in the bath, gasping a breath of air, and wiping her face to rid herself of the droplets of water that still clung to her lashes. Grabbing a towel from the floor, she dried herself, almost rubbing her skin raw with the zealous effort to get dry faster. Catching her reflection out of the corner of her eye for the second time that night, she paused again, only this time with a feeling of disdain. She turned and looked at her face full on. This is who she had become. This was her. With a scream of outrage she pulled back her fist and slammed it into the glass, causing it to crack and shatter.

As she walked out of the bathroom, she could barely feel the pain of the glass in her knuckles, and refused to acknowledge the blood that was running down her hand. She threw open the bathroom door, forgetting to put on her pajamas, and ran into her room, throwing open her closet. At the sight of all the clothes, another stab went through her heart. She'd worn this on their first date, she'd worn this the first time they'd kissed, she'd worn this the first time they'd...

She stopped shuffling through her clothes and just stared at that outfit. That outfit. It was symbolic of the beginning of the end for them. She hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the fabric because it seemed so surreal at the moment. When her fingers connected with the shirt, she ripped it from it's hanger along with the skirt and sweater, throwing them on her desk. She ran over to her top drawer and pulled out a pair of sewing scissors, opening them to prepare to let the clothing to meet its untimely end. She spent a good twenty minutes slicing up the shirt and skirt, but when she got to the sweater, she hesitated, noticing the blood running down her hand for the first time. With a sigh she wrapped the sweater around her bleeding cut, and stood up, walking to the first aid kit in the kitchen.

She shivered. It was then that she realized she wasn't wearing anything. Turning around, she went back into her room and pulled out her oldest pair of jeans, and a shirt that she'd borrowed from her mother a long time ago. At a time when they were both still friends. It was either she'd forgotten to give it back, or her mother was afraid to ask for it, but the shirt was a comfort, reminding her that once she used to be innocent. Once she used to be loved and wanted. Once upon a time.

Remembering her cut, she dragged herself into the kitchen, pulling down the first aid kit from its resting place in a once used cabinet, and opened the antiseptic, bracing herself for the first sting which was inevitable in cleaning her wound. It never came. Had she become so callous that she couldn't even feel physical pain anymore? She supposed that the pain in her heart more than outweighed any amount of bodily pain she could ever endure, so she decided to test her limits. One by one she ripped each shard of glass from her knuckles. One by one she realized that this was it. She couldn't feel. She couldn't feel...

Shoving the chair back she walked calmly into her bedroom and sat down at her desk. She could remember her days from Chilton spent doing homework at this desk. Those days seemed a distant memory to the life she was leading now. Homework was so simple, so tangible. She should've reveled in that fact then, should've realized that life would only get harder and things would never be as simple as a math problem again. She opened the top drawer, and pulled out an old notebook, tracing the doodles that were hastily strewn all over the front of a blue notebook in black pen. They were fading. She was fading.

She opened the cover and saw a picture of Harvard taped to the inside cover. Just opposite the cover was a picture of Yale, along with twice the amount of memorabilia that the Harvard side contained. With a sad smile, she traced the engraved stickers and pamphlets that littered the page. This was her life. She could've had this, but she chose to throw it all away. All over some stupid boy. Some stupid punk boy who was breaking her heart.

Taking a fresh sheet of paper out of the notebook, she began a healing technique that she'd been taught when she went to Stars Hollow High. Write yourself a letter, you'll be amazed at the answers you find. With a sigh she uncapped a pen and began.  
__

_Dear Rory,  
  
So you're sitting here writing a loser letter to yourself, the loser. Ironic, huh? We could never break out of this cycle. You wanted it too badly. You wanted the change too badly. You know it now, why didn't you know it then? What were you thinking, throwing your life away, and for what? A boy who doesn't love you. Someone who wants you to change who you are, be something you're not? You know that you've become the same image you once despised. You're alone, you truly are. Who can you turn to? Be honest. You don't talk to your mother anymore, claiming that since you've grown up, you've grown apart. You know what the real reason is. You've lost your best friend, the one who you could tell all your secrets to and who used to listen to music with you until the early hours in the morning. Do you even listen to music anymore? Do you even hear anything anymore? Anyone? You've lost school, the one thing that you excelled at. No college, no nothing. You could've had it all. Family, friends, a wealth of knowledge. You didn't want it badly enough. Some things never do change._

Some cleansing exercise this is. She opened her desk drawer again, reaching for an envelope, and folding the paper carefully into three parts, just like she learned in grade school. She licked the envelope and addressed it to herself, finishing only when she had placed a stamp on the upper right hand corner. Looking back in the drawer, a shining glint in the far back corner caught her eye. She reached a hand back, and grasped the reflection, coming up with a letter opener. She didn't even know she had this. It looked ancient, the almost knife-like structure of the blade. Holding it up closer to her face and to eye level, she looked at her distorted reflection in the blade. She thought of death.

With a scream she dropped the letter opener to the ground and backed away from it, like it was some sort of animal. She ran into the kitchen, gasping heaving breaths of air, and trying to calm herself. She looked at the letter, which was still, unknowingly, clutched in her fingers. She sat down at the table and placed the letter neatly in front of her. A single tear escaped her eye, and fell to the envelope, splotching the black ink. Sniffing, she pulled down her sleeve and wiped the errant tear from her cheek, allowing herself no more tears.

Slowly, she stood up again, and made her way back to her bedroom. She refused to look at her desk, and went directly to her closet and pulled on her shoes. Standing up, the glint of the letter opener caught her eye again, and with a sigh she bent over and picked it up. Walking back to her door, she reached over and put the opener on her dresser, vowing to put it away later. Grabbing the letter from the kitchen table, she walked out the front door, and into the cool October evening.

She didn't bother locking up, knowing it was only a short walk back to her house from the post office. As she walked she began to look around at her crisp autumn surroundings. Walking down Main Street, her mind was flooded with memories of all the fun she'd had here. She'd met him here. This town. Pushing him from her mind, she picked up the pace, and finally rounded the corner to the post office. Pulling back the pick up slot, she stuck her letter on the lid of the chute, and gave it one last look. Who knew if she'd ever see that letter again anyway? The way mail was sometimes...

Turning away she took the long way back to her house, purposely going by Luke's to see some familiar faces. Pausing across the square to look in the light-lined window, she felt like she was looking in on something secret and special. She wasn't a part of it anymore. It was a fantasy. She could see her mom and Luke talking across the counter, outrageously flirting. Some things never do change... She could see Kirk sitting by himself in a corner, almost having a one sided conversation with his meal. Some things never do change... She could see him, pouring the coffee and looking the way he always did. Some things never do change...

At this, Rory turned on her heel and ran back to her house, not allowing the tears that threatened to fall escape her eyelids. She jogged up the front walkway and turned the knob to her house. Her sanctuary. Looking around as she shut the door, she realized how little she'd seen outside of her room the past year. The family room was unchanged, and the pictures of her and her mother still stood idly on the mantle, but they held little meaning anymore. Walking over, she picked one up. It had been taken two years ago at the dance marathon. She sadly smiled. That was a night to remember. Such heartbreak, and him. She threw the picture across the room in a fit of anger. Looking at the all the pictures hurt too much. She took both her hands and swiped them across the mantle, causing all the pictures in their frames to go crashing to the ground, cracking and shattering as they fell.

Breathing heavily, she surveyed the damage she'd done. Looking at her feet, defeated that her rampage had not solved any of her heartbreak, she saw a picture of her when she was little. She was so innocent and trusting. Bending, she picked up the frame with the cracked glass, and gently placed it back on the mantle. That one could stay.

With a weary sigh, she trudged back to her room and finally put on her pajamas. Looking at her bookshelf, she wondered when the last time was that she had read a book. She brushed her fingertips across the well-worn spines, and smiled, remembering clearly every character, every plot, every imaginable situation, until she reached the Salinger section. Salinger. The name disgusted her now. The man who once held the most wonderful place in her literary heart was now cast to the depths of her hate. He ruined it for her. He ruined her literary dreams. He could live the literary dreams, but no, she wasn't allowed to.

While her anger refueled itself, the phone rang. She froze. Her heart froze. She didn't dare pick it up. She knew it was him. It was him. She held her breath as the machine picked it up down the hallway. She inched over to her door, halfway shutting it and grasping the knob like a lifeline, like it could somehow protect her from his voice. She heard his angry voice anyway. "Rory? I know you're there. Pick up the damn phone. You know I need to talk with you about what happened today. Why are you always doing this? Why are you always causing problems with us? You have to call me back tonight, or it's over." With a click, she could hear him hang up the phone.

She was terrified. She was terrified to lose him, but she was terrified of herself. What time was it? What's the damn time? Why is there no clock when you need one... Frantically her eyes sought out the red digits glaring at her from across her bedroom. 8:41. Oh god, her mom would be home soon. What to do, what to do, what to do! She could feel her chest tightening as she thought about calling him, and her hesitation scared her. Come on, come on. 8:42. Oh god, her mom was coming soon. Oh my god. Make a decision! Make a decision!

Her breaths began to shorten, and she could hear the sound of her mom's shoes crunching up the pathway to their house. She froze. Oh my god. The key turned the lock in the door, and the door opened. Rory looked at the digits of her clock again. 8:43. She watched the digits melt into the floor, like blood pooling to the ground. She could feel the blood beginning to drip back down her knuckles because she'd been clutching her door handle so tightly for too long.

With utter fear she whirled around and slammed her bedroom door. "Rory?" Gasping for breath, her eyes frantically searched her room. Her reflection. Always her damn reflection. With hate in her eyes she looked at the image that glared back at her in the mirror on her dresser. This was it.

She grabbed the letter opener. Saw her gaunt reflection in its blade...

...and she turned off the light...

Some things never do change.


	2. Welcome to Existence

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Gilmore Girls, I'm just using the characters for my own enjoyment. I'm also shamelessly borrowing from Anne Sebold.  
Rating: This story is rated R for mild swearing and allusions to suicide. Please don't read it if you aren't comfortable with the subject matter. Thanks!

Chapter 2 – Welcome to Existence

"Rory?" she heard her mother call. "Are you home? Rory?"

She opened her eyes.

Sitting up quickly, Rory surveyed her room. It was lighter, so she thought that it might be morning. With a sigh, she stood and walked over to the window, gazing out into her front yard, looking at the brightly colored piles of leaves that had collected during the night. The reds, oranges, and yellows seemed to mock her sense of gloominess and depression.

Reaching for the lock that held the window in place, she pushed the glass upward and climbed out the window, accomplishing something she hadn't done in years. Walking down her porch, she started down the steps and into the leaves. With a scream of laughter, she jumped into a huge pile and buried herself in their depths, swimming in a sea of wet dirt and grass. It was like heaven.

After awhile, even Rory had to admit that this behavior was a little childish, so she pulled herself off of the ground and brushed the excess traces of nature from her clothes. Not wanting to go inside to face the mess she'd made the night before, and her mother, she turned toward town, breathing in the crisp morning air that only the east coast could provide in the fall.

Passing Miss Patty's, she stopped and watched her open the studio for her early morning yoga class. As her mind caught on to the time, her body adjusted as well, and she headed toward Luke's to get some coffee.

Pushing open the door to the diner, she heard the bell tinkle and felt a rush of nostalgia. She hadn't visited the diner alone in at least a year, and she couldn't figure out her sudden lack of caring. She knew he'd be there, but it didn't matter. She was free of him now.

Grabbing a seat at the counter, she left the tables to the families who dined early in the morning. Luke rushed by her behind the counter as she called out "Coffee, Luke." He didn't seem to hear her, and picked up the orders that Ceaser had left at the window.

After his deliveries, Luke returned, this time to the register, ringing up the receipt of a disgruntled family. Mumbling to himself, Luke angrily punched at the numbers and successfully created a receipt. "Luke?" Rory called after him. He didn't hear her again.

Frustrated, Rory grabbed a mug herself, pouring coffee from the container. She settled back in her seat, sipping at the warm brew. She couldn't really taste it, but she figured that it was just due to her overwrought nerves from the night before.

Finishing her mug, she left the money at the counter at walked toward the door calling out a quick, "Bye, Luke," as she left. Walking down the street, she paused to look in some of the store windows. Those unicorn shops were growing by the dozens. She hadn't thought about those stores in years, ever since she and her mom...

Well, it didn't matter now. Passing by Doosey's Market, she glanced in the window and saw Dean diligently bagging groceries as usual. It still amazed her that he didn't try harder to be something more than a bagger. He had so much potential. Hell, she shouldn't be one to judge. She'd done the same thing: thrown away her life.

Somehow that idea didn't scare her anymore. In fact, it didn't even produce any sort of emotion in her like it did the night before. Rory felt healed. She hadn't felt this good in years.

Walking up her driveway, she saw that her mom had left the lights to the Jeep on, and she opened the door to turn them off. Sitting in the driver's seat, she couldn't remember the last time she'd driven anywhere in this car with her mother. It was still the same, but the warmth wasn't there.

Touching the steering wheel, she remembered learning to drive, getting hit by the deer on the way to Chilton, and Friday night dinners. Those had stopped after the death of her grandmother. Emily Gilmore had finally succumbed to the cancer that had plagued her for a year. Rory didn't go to the funeral. She was with...him...that day.

Her grandfather had followed a few months later, seemingly from heartache as he never recovered from the loss of his wife and friend. With that chapter of her life over, Rory felt no real connection with any family anymore.

She had stopped calling her father, since their talks always revolved around Sherri and Gigi. Since she wasn't doing anything with her life, she couldn't share any information with him, so their conversations were lilted and awkward. They stopped altogether three months ago, and Rory barely felt the loss.

Pushing open the front door of her house, she looked into the family room to see if her mother was awake yet. The glass had been swept off the floor, and the pictures removed from their resting places, all except the one of her as a little girl, which she'd placed on the mantle the night before.

Walking into the kitchen, Rory pulled out yesterday's paper and began to catch up on the latest news. Not understanding her sudden motive for wanting to know about Stars Hollow again, she didn't question the emotion, but savored it.

Turning to the gossip column, she learned that Kirk had a new girlfriend named Lulu. Smirking to herself, she wondered what Lulu must look like, and how Kirk was handling himself and the situation. She read more mundane things about her neighbors and their yards until something caught her eye. At the bottom of the column, she caught a phrase saying, "Jess Mariano and Rory Gilmore... Hot or History?"  
  
Curious, she read on. "According to our sources, this Stars Hollow teen couple has been hitting a rocky patch in their relationship. Now the question is: who is too controlling?" Rory sighed. "How do these people know everything?" she asked aloud. "Statistics say that most teen relationships die out because one party or the other begins to take a controlling nature over the other. Have the sparks faded? Will this couple last?" Rory smiled before replying, "Of course not."

Reading on, she was astonished to find some gossip about her mother. "And in related news, Lorelai Gilmore has been seen around town with Luke Danes recently. Is this the match made in heaven that the whole town has been waiting for? One insider says: 'The way they flirt over her coffee, you'd think they'd been sleeping together for months.'" With a snort of laughter, Rory read on. "Well, we're pulling for this one folks. And that's the news for this week. Keep gossiping!"

Folding the paper, she heard her mother enter the kitchen behind her, and she twisted in her seat to face her. "Mom, you wouldn't believe what they printed about you and Luke in the paper. It's so ridiculous! It says that you have been sleeping together and everything." Rory laughed. "Isn't that crazy?"

Lorelai didn't respond, but continued with the motions of setting up the coffee filter. "Mom?" Rory tried again. "Okay, I see how it is. You're giving me the cold shoulder. Well, don't worry I understand. I've been doing the same thing for the past couple of months." There was still no response.

Rory stood and walked up behind her, almost whispering in Lorelai's ear saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Mommy." Rory leaned her head against Lorelai's back, but was jolted back to reality when she felt herself falling forward into the counter. Lorelai was on the other side of the kitchen. 

"Rory?" Lorelai called. Rory giggled. Was her mom actually trying to joke around with her like they used to? "Rory?" Lorelai called again, turning toward her bedroom door. Walking across the room, Lorelai twisted Rory's doorknob and opened the door.

Rory was gasping in laughter now, as her mother's calls turned into screams. "Rory! RORY!"

Hunched over, clutching her stomach, Rory made her way across the kitchen up to behind where Lorelai was standing. "Mom, you're killing me," she gasped. "You're killing me! Stop it!"

As Rory gasped for breath to recover from her fit of giggles, Lorelai collapsed to the ground, and crawled across the floor of her bedroom. "Mom?" Rory laughed. "What are you doing?" She entered the room and crossed to her bed and looked at her mother on the ground on the other side. "Mom?" Rory called, laughing less at the look of horror on Lorelai's face. "Mom?"

Picking her way around the clothing littering the floor, she made her way to the foot of her bed. Looking down at her comforter, she saw a huge red stain that traveled across the length of her bed and down off the side where her mother was kneeling.

Reaching out a cautious hand, she felt the stain. It was slightly wet, and pulling back her hand, she rubbed her fingers together, feeling the consistency of the liquid. "Mom?" Rory said again, this time with fear. She heard her mother scream again, "Oh my god!"

As if in slow motion, Rory stepped around her mother and looked with horror at the floor of her bedroom. "Rory!" her mother cried again.

"Oh my god," Rory said aloud. "OH MY GOD!" she screamed, clutching her hands over her mouth. She looked at her mangled body on the floor with her letter opener sticking out of her chest. Blood stained the floor where she'd lain, and her complexion was a bluish hue. Her eyes were opened toward the ceiling, unseeing as they looked upon death.

"NO!" they cried in unison, and it was hard to distinguish who was feeling the most anguish. "No," Rory said. She reached over and touched Lorelai's shoulder. "Mom, I'm right here. This is just a trick. Mom." She shook Lorelai slightly. "Mom." She shook her again, this time harder. "MOM," she screamed, using both hands. Lorelai just sat in shock, wailing cries of "Rory" and "Oh my god" and "No." Lorelai reached out and grasped the arm of Rory's dead body and pulled her against her chest, rocking back and forth. "My baby," she cried.

Rory stepped away from the horror that confronted her vision, and stumbled backward into the wall. "No," she cried. Lorelai echoed her sentiment. "NO! NO! NO!" Their screams echoed in her small room, until Rory hit her head back against the wall and screamed "GOD!"

And suddenly she was falling backward into an empty black hole of nothing but the screams of her mother vibrating in her ears, and the tears falling down her cheeks.  
  
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A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks!


	3. I'm Finding it Hard to Believe

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Gilmore Girls, I'm just using the characters for my own enjoyment. I'm also shamelessly borrowing from Anne Sebold.  
Rating: This story is rated PG-13 for mild swearing, allusions to suicide, and sexual situations. Please don't read it if you aren't comfortable with the subject matter. Thanks!

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Chapter 3 – I'm Finding it Hard to Believe this is Heaven...

They say death is where you find your true self; that death is the link between past and present; that death is a new beginning...

Rory was lost.

Spiraling through a misty haze, she was jolted back to reality when she landed with a thud on the steps to the town gazebo. "Owww..." she grumbled, stumbling to her feet and brushing off the leaves that littered her shirt. Regaining her bearings, she looked around herself in awe. She was home!

The town was exactly the way she'd left it...only slightly different. As if everything was underwater, the town moved with the different aspects of the sun, reflecting the angles and planes of the buildings. "Where am I?" Rory asked aloud, and to herself, seeing as nobody was around.

"You don't know where you are?" she heard behind her in the gazebo. Whipping around to see who was speaking, and who was a reality in this dream, Rory was confronted with the figure of a young woman reclining on the bench inside the gazebo. Taking a cautious step forward Rory asked, "Who are you?"

Pulling her legs around to the floor and standing, Rory spied the face of a teenager who looked like she would become a beautiful woman if time and grace permitted. "But you didn't answer my question," the girl replied. "You don't know where you are?"

With an exasperated sigh Rory replied, "Well if I knew where I was, I wouldn't be asking." "Tsk tsk," the girl responded, walking slowly down the stairs so that she was directly facing Rory. "Let's go back further. What was the last thing you remember screaming while you were on Earth?"

Perplexed, Rory sat in thought for a few minutes before replying, "I honestly don't know." The girl continued, "So you're telling me that the last few precious moments we granted you on Earth weren't put to good use? That you can't even remember your last words as a being?"

With a blush, Rory replied, "No." "Well, I can see that the favor wasn't put to very good use. Oh well, at least you're here now. 'Wanna take a look around?" the girl responded before traipsing off in the direction of the diner. "But wait!" Rory called after her. "What were my last words?" The girl stopped and pretended to ponder while filling the silence with a steady "Hmmm..." as her 'thoughts' gathered.

"Well, I must say that you were a pretty smart one to put your last words so pleadingly. I haven't heard of another case like that since Joan of Arc, but then again, she had the whole 'visions' and 'saint' thing going for her. Yes, you are at a completely different odd in this matter." Seemingly done with her thought, the girl turned and continued down the street and up the steps of the diner.

Rory ran after her frantically, not wanting to lose sight of the first tangible thing she'd seen in the past 20 minutes. "But what did I say?" Rory questioned further. "You still haven't answered my question!" Stopping the girl flippantly replied, "And you haven't answered mine." Opening the door to the diner, the teenager stepped inside, holding the door open for Rory, who was trailing behind her.

"Take a seat," she said, pointing to a chair at the counter. Walking behind the counter to where Luke would normally stand, she asked, "What'll it be for you today, Rory?" "I guess just coffee...wait, how did you know my name?" "Coffee it is," she replied, tugging a mug from under the counter and pushing it toward Rory's still frame.

"I know lots about you," she continued. "Astound me," Rory replied sarcastically, drinking her coffee.

"Welllll..." the girl began. "Your first boyfriend's name was Dean. He made a bracelet, then later a car. He told you that he loved you, but you didn't reciprocate the words at the time. My my, that was a messy breakup. Then you finally reciprocated, but you didn't really feel it... At least, you told yourself you did, but you didn't because... Well, never mind, I'm just rambling now. Then you met Jess. He was trouble from the start, always getting you to do things that you were uncomfortable doing. Pushing your limits. Stretching you too far. The big thing with him was the virginity factor. That was definitely solved soon after your hook up. He's the reason you were unhappy, and he's the reason you're here today."

"Which is where?" Rory replied to her lengthy monologue, undisturbed by the lengthy display of knowledge the girl had shared about her life.

"Well that's really for you to decide. It can be whatever you want it to be. Heaven or hell. Past or present, but never future... The possibilities are endless."

"But what is this...exactly?" Rory questioned.

"It's kind of an in-between place. Not purgatory, but not heaven or hell. It's simply a state of being that is completely separate from reality."

"I don't understand," Rory replied, perplexed.

"Follow me," the girl said, moving from behind the counter to the door. Walking through the town square, Rory was once again struck by the similarities between reality and this... place.

When they reached the gazebo, the girl stopped and pointed inside. "Go and take a look," she prompted Rory. "It will give you a better idea of the place in which you reside."

Cautiously proceeding up the stairs, Rory felt a sudden drop in temperature as she walked toward the center of the floor. "Take a seat on the bench," the girl called after her. Rory complied, sitting gingerly on the wooden bench that was placed in front of the blackened center of the wood floor.

The girl followed Rory up the stairs, but stood at the entrance of the gazebo, not fully entering the vicinity. "What would you like to see?" she asked. "Anything?" "Anything at all," she responded. "Past, Present, Future... It doesn't matter."

Thinking for a moment, Rory responded with a quick, "I'd like to see my mother at the present, please." "As you wish," the girl said, before tapping against the wooden paneling along the gazebo's exterior.

Rory leaned over the hole and gazed into the contents which where swirling into focus. With a small gasp, and a whispered, "Oh my gosh," Rory saw her mother.

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Lorelai was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, halfway between crying and sleep. She'd been wearing the same clothes for two days, and she hadn't showered in three. Placing her head in her hands, she wondered what she was going to do now that Rory was gone. Her logical response was to move past it, but how could you move past something that ripped out a piece of your heart.

Hearing a small knock at the door, Lorelai shouted, "Go away," before returning her head to its resting place. The knock continued, this time louder, and Lorelai grumbled as she got up from her seat and trudged to the door. "This had better be good," she threatened as she reached for the doorknob.

Opening the door, she was surprised to see Luke, who seemed to by carrying about two tons of prepared food and other essentials which Lorelai hadn't seen in days. "What's all this?" she asked as she walked away from the door, knowing Luke was following her. "It's for you," he replied.

Dragging a chair out from the kitchen table, Lorelai resumed her earlier resting posture and ignored Luke as he stocked her refrigerator. Clearing his throat, Luke said, "I also wanted to check up on you."

"Well check away," Lorelai replied with an embellished swoop of her hand. "How would you think I would be in this situation?" she asked. "Pretty damn bad," was the only reply, as Luke pulled out a chair and sat next to her.

"Ummm... I'm not really good at this, but... do you 'wanna talk about it?"

"No," was the only audible reply he got.

So they sat in silence. The silence was only penetrated by the quiet sobs of Lorelai into her arms.

And all Luke could do was sit there and rub her shoulders telling her everything would be okay...

--------------------

"Enough," Rory said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Alright," the girl replied, and with a swoop of her hand, the hole was closed.

"Was that real?" Rory asked.

"Of course it was," was the reply. "You think I could make something like that up?"

"I don't know, I mean this whole thing seems pretty made up to me," Rory said, gesturing to the town around her.

"I didn't make that up, you did. It's what you most secretly harbored as your heaven."

Rory sat on this for awhile before replying, "But you said this was neither heaven nor hell."

"It isn't... yet," the girl replied. "After you're here awhile, you'll know what I mean."

"How long am I going to stay here?"

"As long as it takes..."

"As long as it takes for what?"

"As long as it takes for you to let go," the girl replied.

Snorting a quick bit of laughter, Rory replied, "I'm already over it. Let's just go now."

"No," the girl said, "I don't think you are..."

"Well, fine," Rory pouted. "I'll stay here forever then."

"Forever's a long time, but I'll be here to help you with that."

"Am I going to see anyone at all while I'm here?" Rory asked.

"Me," was the simple reply.

"And who are you?" Rory pressed.

"I'm the one you called for at the point of death."

"I don't understand," Rory cried out, obviously frustrated.

"You asked me a few minutes ago what your final words were on Earth, and I told you to think about it. You didn't have finals 'words' per se... rather, a final... word."

"Which was..."

"God."

"And who are you?"

"I'm God."

And with that, Rory was sure she had landed herself a seat straight in hell.

--------------------

A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	4. Getting Homework in Your Afterlife

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Gilmore Girls, I'm just using the characters for my own enjoyment. I'm also shamelessly borrowing from Anne Sebold.  
Rating: This story is rated PG-13 for mild swearing, allusions to suicide, and sexual situations. Please don't read it if you aren't comfortable with the subject matter. Thanks!

- - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 4 - Getting Homework in Your Afterlife

- - - - - - - - - -

The day of Rory's funeral dawned crisp, cold, and gray as the sun rose above the trees of Stars Hollow. The leaves rustled in the wind, and the world became a nearly silent paradise.

Lorelai hadn't slept in the five days it took for the autopsy and funeral arrangements, and so she sat at the kitchen table reflecting on the whirlwind that had proved to be the week.

Once the initial shock had faded from discovering the body itself, Lorelai rose and calmly proceeded to call the police. Within ten minutes, an ambulance and two police cars had arrived on her driveway, along with half of the town. She had taken a deep breath for courage before unlocking her door and walking outside to greet them.

Unconscious of her own appearance, it seemed that everyone noticed that her clothes were stained from chest to knee with blood, except for her. Bringing a shaky hand up to brush the hair out of her face, she showed the EMT's where to find Rory's body.

Standing at a distance, watching them lift her to a gurney, Lorelai felt cold. She didn't notice the riot which was going on outside the window, and the gossip circle which had started. Miss Patty and Babette were strangely silent among this, but stood close to one another for support and warmth. The house was police taped off, and Lorelai never realized that the only person who'd gotten through was Luke, in a mad hysteria to comfort her.

As emergency personnel lifted Rory up, locked the wheels of the gurney holding the body bag, and wheeled her out of the house, Lorelai collapsed in shock, unfeeling to the arms which caught her and had held her close for a week.

And so began the autopsy report. Signs of struggle after the blade was inflicted; uncertain whether only party involved; ruled a suicide.

The funeral was surprisingly easy to arrange. The whole town took care of the flowers, Lorelai simply told the priest that they needed the church, and told Luke she needed to buy a casket. That Saturday, they drove into Hartford to the same place where she'd bought the caskets in which her parents were buried. Spending no time looking for frills and lace, she picked a simple black casket with a white satin lining, ignoring Luke's protests that he would pay for it.

And now here she was, having lost her parents and daughter all in the same year. Lorelai wasn't too sure that this was such a great track record, but straightened her skirt, grabbed her purse, and walked out the door.

She'd arrived at the church an hour early, and the hearse was just unloading Rory's casket. The bearers placed her gently on the altar, and Lorelai just sat in the last pew, in shock. As the men left, she carefully stood and looked down the aisle to where Rory lie. She took a few cautious steps toward her daughter, before becoming resolute and moving forward toward the casket.

Climbing the steps to the altar, she took out the card that she'd written to her daughter, along with a picture of the two of them when Rory was five. Placing the items gently amongst the flower arrangement that covered the top of the casket, Lorelai kissed her palm before touching it to the head of the casket and walking out of the church.

The service passed with no great events, many spoke of Rory, and it seemed that the whole town had turned out to pay their respects. Lorelai simply stood in the back, offering no greeting to anyone, and no protest to any of the events.

Few accompanied Rory and Lorelai to her burial place in Hartford, alongside her grandparents in the family plot, but those in attendance included Luke, Sookie, Jackson, and Chris. Surprisingly her father had come to make his final amends to the daughter he'd never truly known. Lorelai felt no compassion for the loss he was feeling.

The priest droned on the cliché, 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…' and Lorelai felt herself drifting away, remembering all the fun that she and Rory had shared; all of the times when they were best friends.

She was jolted back to reality as the casket was being dropped into the earth, and her friends were tossing flowers into the grave to follow Rory. Lorelai felt one lone tear slip down her cheek, and the wind blowing across her legs as she gently walked to the edge, peered down, and said, "Goodbye, sweetheart. I love you…"

- - - - - - - - - -

Up in… the in-between… where Rory was currently residing, she wiped tears away from her eyes at the words she was hearing as she watched her funeral.

"I'll always remember," Miss Patty began with a laugh, "the spunk and character Rory brought to my five-year-old ballet class. That girl sure couldn't dance, but she sure as hell made up for it in her attitude."

"I remember when Rory would sit outside our house, pretending a tree stump she'd found was a fairy ring," Babette followed.

All the reminiscences followed the same suit, each remembering the carefree days of Rory's youth, her intelligence, her charisma, but none seemed to mention any event of the last year in her life. Her attention waned a little, and she allowed her eyes to wander to the other people sitting in the congregation. She saw Lane, Zach, and Mama Kim all sitting in the third pew, none crying, but Rory wasn't too surprised after the way she'd treated Lane the past year. In the fifth pew she saw Gypsy, and a few other people from the Independence Inn.

Unconsciously, Rory eyes were also scanning for someone else. He wasn't there. He wasn't there. Rory 'hrrmmffed' to herself, folded her arms, and pulled back away from the black whole of present day like a toddler, before stomping her foot.

"Trouble in paradise?" Cady asked. She'd finally consented to give Rory her true name, or rather, that which was her name on Earth.

"Heh. If you could call it that," Rory quipped back. "He's not there. He's not at the funeral."

"Doesn't surprise me a bit," she responded. Cady had already known Rory's dating history, but she'd had Rory tell her about it all the same, and seemed to offer some consolation for the character that her ex-boyfriend was.

"What do you mean?" Rory asked.

Cady took a long drag of her cigarette before answering. "Well, I mean, look at his track record. He doesn't have a great history of commitment and emotion."

"You know, smoking kills," Rory said quietly to herself.

Cady glanced over at her before sitting up from the bench in the gazebo, and smiling at her, said, "Well, it's lucky I'm dead then, isn't it?" before putting out her cigarette in between her fingers.

"Listen, Rory," Cady began. "I'll give you the secret of getting into the big white place a little earlier." Putting her arm around Rory's shoulders, she continued, "It's about getting out all of the urges you'll ever have to see what happened on Earth, and what will, or is happening on Earth. Think of every little thing you'll ever want to see happen to all the people that you can think of, and you'll be set. You'll have the visions. But beware; you can't stay here too long, or begin to think of this as your home, or you'll be stuck here forever. Got it?"

"Yah, I got it," Rory grumbled in reply, before averting her gaze back to the hole which was the present. She saw her coffin being laid into the ground, and felt a chill that went down her spine that had nothing to do with temperature.

"You know, it's creeping watching yourself being buried," Rory said, almost to herself.

"Try watching what they did in the Egyptian times," Cady replied with a shudder.

"Is that how long you've been here?" Rory asked.

"I've been everywhere for all eternity," she answered.

"Oh, right. Sorry, dumb question."

"No, it's alright. It's going to take time to get used to thinking of me being a 'higher being', and not just some pal you hang out with. But that's a lot further down your path. We need to focus on the present, here and now."

Cady began walking toward the entryway of the gazebo before turning to Rory and saying, "I'll be back at 3 pm tomorrow. Have that list done," and with a wave over her shoulder, Cady disappeared.

With a sigh, Rory reclined on the bench. 'Great,' she thought to herself, 'I'm even getting homework in my afterlife.'

Pulling herself upright, Rory trudged down the steps and into Luke's Diner. Picking a spot in the front, by the window, she thought about how and where she'd get a piece of paper and a pen, when they just appeared in front of her on the table, ready for use.

Uncapping the pen, she carefully printed at the top: "People to find out the future of…"

Grammatically incorrect, but who cares? If this is afterlife homework, it didn't require the amount of effort that she usually put into her work. And so she began her list.

"Number one," she said aloud, writing down the corresponding number. "Mom. Number two, Luke. Number three, Dad. Number four, Lane. Number five…" Hmmm… "Paris," she wrote, going out on a limb. "Number six, Sookie and Jackson. Number seven…" She didn't want to really find out about him really? See him with other girls. See how he'd be living a wonderful life, while she was… dead.

"Number seven," she continued with a shaky hand. "Jess."


	5. From Death Into New Life

Chapter 5

From Death Into New Life

Hearing the telephone ring for what seemed to be the 20th time that morning, Lorelai promptly shoved her head under her pillow in an attempt to block out the incessant ringing of the device she used to glue religiously to her ear. When the machine finally picked up, Lorelai managed to grumble a distinct, "Thank God," before shrugging the pillow off with her arm and sitting up.

Wiping the back of her sleeve quickly over her face, she glanced out her window and saw that she could at least tell that it was daytime; what hour and what day, however, was an entirely different story. With a groan, she leaned back into the heavy indentation that had held her body for the past six… no, seven days since the funeral.

Soon a knock started on the door downstairs, and with a moan Lorelai protested, "What is this? National… 'Bother Lorelai' Day?" Making no move to answer the knocking, it continued for the next two minutes before the visitor finally gave up. "At last!" Lorelai said to herself with a sweeping embellish of her arms, "The person gets some sense!"

Pulling the covers over her head, Lorelai fought to return to the blissful darkness of sleep when she heard a bang at her bedroom door and something brushing across her feet. With a scream, she sat upright and tried to climb toward the light from under the covers. She found no success until a male hand burrowed a hole and pushed it toward her searching head and hands.

"Luke," Lorelai gasped, clasping her hands across her hammering heart, "You scared the crap out of me!" Brushing the hair out of her face, she ended with a heartfelt, "Geez," before slapping him across the shoulder.

"Lorelai," Luke began," you need to get up. It's been a week. You can't punish yourself like this. God, have you even eaten any of the food I've brought you?" Luke asked, noticing the lack of food scattered around her room and focusing instead on the glass of water and container of Tylenol PMs on her bedside stand.

Luke's brow furrowed, and with conviction he said, "Enough is enough."

"Leave me alone," Lorelai whined. "I'm not in the mood."

"Neither am I," Luke retorted, rising from the foot of her bed.

Lorelai grabbed the covers and pulled them back over her head, but before she was even settled, Luke grabbed her feet from the bottom of the bed, pulling her across the mattress and toward him. With a shriek, Lorelai let go of the covers as she began the descent down the bed into Luke's arms. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder before turning around and heading down the stairs.

"Luke! Put me down!" Lorelai protested, pounding her fists against his back and kicking.

"You'd better stop that, or I just might drop you," Luke half-warned, even though he and Lorelai both knew that he would never allow her to get injured in any way. Nevertheless, Lorelai's antics soon ceased, and Luke traveled quickly into the entryway before setting her down.

As she slowly stood for the first time in days, Lorelai was forced to make a frantic grab for the pajama pants that were making their quick descent down her legs. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to tie the string around her waist even tighter before noticing that she'd lost quite a bit of weight.

Luke noticed too.

Clearing his throat, Luke took command of the situation and announced, "While I go make some breakfast, you check the answering machine. There are quite a few people worried bout you."

"Yah yah," Lorelai complained, before getting a gentle shove toward the machine as Luke moved into the kitchen. Lorelai rolled her eyes and punched the button.

She listened to the pre-recorded voice drone about how long it had been since she'd last checked her messages. Lorelai sat on the couch just as she heard, "You have 47 new messages, the first sent…" Lorelai's biggest groan of the day had been waiting for this, and it came out just as she buried her face in the couch.

"I heard that!" Luke shouted from the kitchen.

"Uggg…" Lorelai exaggerated loudly toward the kitchen.

She didn't miss the laughter that met her reply.

- - - - - - - - - -

That kick in the pants from Luke was all Lorelai needed before she had immersed herself in a whirlwind of activities to keep her body busy, and her mind off of Rory.

Much to Sookie's surprise, she received a phone call from Lorelai a scant eight days after the funeral, begging her to consider a plan of going into business for themselves and finally opening an inn.

And that was all she needed…

Lorelai was busy from 6am to 9pm every day making phone calls to contractors, interior designers, appliance companies, and looking over every other little detail that was needed to complete her dream. All this time, she and Sookie even had their own cheerleader. Luke was beyond happy to see Lorelai in his diner the day after he'd paid her a little visit, dressed in a work suit and ready to go.

Over the eight months it had taken to reconstruct portions of The Dragonfly, Lorelai had taken notice of Luke's interest in her project, and was thrilled that he was getting behind the inn full force. She didn't realize that Luke was doing it because he was behind her…

And so, like all good projects, this one came to a close nearly a year after Rory's death, and on the dawn of Lorelai's 34th birthday. Not one for celebrations, she and Sookie had a simple toast of champagne inside the foyer, sharing the mutual joy of the inn's completion and Lorelai's life.

As she walked home that night, Lorelai was bombarded by the greetings of well-wishers who never forgot the day that usually signified a party for the whole town… At least when Rory was alive it did. Lorelai met their shouts with a smile, but inside she was dying to get home and inside a bath so that she could forget that Rory wasn't there to help her celebrate.

As she walked past the diner, she noticed Luke starting to tear down for the evening. Flipping the chairs upside down and placing them on the tables, Luke's routine had purpose and direction. The squirt of the cleaner, the wiping with the cloth, and then the flipping of the chairs had an order that Lorelai was drawn to in her tired frame of mind, so she found herself pushing in the door of the diner and hearing the bell tinkle as she crossed under the doorway.

Not expecting any customers at this time of night, Luke looked up in surprise at the figure that had just walked in. Seeing that it was Lorelai, he cleared his throat and assumed an awkward stance with his hands in his pockets.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, worried.

With a wave of her hand, Lorelai replied, "Everything's fine," before taking a seat at the counter.

"Can I get you anything?" Luke prodded in an attempt to break the silence.

"Sure… Ice cream?"

"You bet."

Luke moved to the back room to take care of her request, and Lorelai was left alone with her own thoughts. Looking around the diner, she took notice of the small things she'd never thought about before. She noticed the coffee mugs that lined the back wall. She took notice of the specific color scheme. She noticed that her mind was going crazy with the inn, so she focused instead on her hands.

It didn't take too long for a habitually impatient Lorelai to wonder what was taking Luke so long to get her ice cream ready.

"Luke?" she called out toward the back room.

"Coming," was the only reply she got, so she resumed the study of her hands.

Clearing his throat was the announcement Luke gave as he walked back into the main room of the diner. Lorelai looked up as her face gave way into shock and then smile as she saw the enormous bowl of ice cream with 'Happy Birthday' written on it in fudge, marshmallow, sprinkles, and ever other form of junk food that completed ice cream.

She sat up straighter as Luke put the bowl down in front of her and placed a candle in the slowly melting mess. Lighting it, he said, "Okay, now… Oh wait, hold on a second." Luke rushed out from behind the counter in a half-run before flipping the light switch and immersing the diner in darkness, save the one candle that burned brightly.

Making his way back to Lorelai, he said, "Okay, I'm going to do something that I am never going to do again… So listen up the first time and no mocking whatsoever."

Perplexed, Lorelai folded her arms across her chest and waited for what Luke had to say.

And so he began with a low tone, "Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…"

Lorelai's smile broadened and she clutched her hands across her mouth in attempt to contain the laughter that was threatening to spill forth. Luke gave her a glare when he sang, "Happy birthday to Lorelai…" And then the first snort of laughter came out, so he finished with a quick, "Happybirthdaytoyou."

The laughter that washed over him was immediate and heartfelt. Lorelai laughed and laughed, as looked stood there blushing furiously like a child. Seeing her laugh again was enough, so he began to smile at her beet red face and the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Lorelai was laughing so long, that Luke wondered if she was going to be able to catch her breath afterwards, so he warned her, "Okay… I get it, it was funny, now make a wish," but the laughter continued. Luke reached across the counter and touched the hand that covered her face and realized that she was shaking.

Her laughter was turning into sobs, and the tears of humor she'd felt moments earlier were turning into tears of pain.

"Lorelai, are you alright?" Luke asked tentatively.

She shakily removed her hands from her face and cast her glossy eyes on Luke and said with wonder, "That's the first time I've laughed since Rory died…"

Luke shook his head with a smile on his face, "It's okay to laugh," wiping her tears with the back of his shirt sleeve. "You were born to laugh…"

Lorelai nodded, wiping a few more errant tears from her face before announcing, "Enough with this blubbering, I'm ready to make my wish!"

Luke stood there and said, "Are you seriously alright?"

Lorelai cast her eyes up toward his and they locked gazes for a long moment before she whispered, "I'm going to be now."

She never tore her eyes from his as she thought for a long moment and then bent her head toward the bowl preparing to blow them into darkness…

…and Luke's loving eyes were the last sight she saw before the darkness washed over her.

- - - - - - - - - -

When the inn had been up and running smoothly for a few months, Lorelai found herself searching for another project, one that could satisfy her on a few different levels.

After much talking, she and Sookie agreed that Lorelai going on a date would be the best way to go. It would satisfy her need to get out of the house, her need for witty banter, her need for male companionship, and her need to find a boyfriend.

The idea had been percolating for a few weeks while Sookie took on her role as scheming best friend with gusto. Sookie was confident she'd finally found someone who'd fit Lorelai's specifications in all areas, so she brought her findings to work one day.

"Into the kitchen!" Sookie prodded Lorelai before being met with the response, "Please do not tell me anything else is broken, Sookie… Our pockets just can't take it!"

"No, no, nothing like that," Sookie said.

"Phew," Lorelai said, mocking her with the backward wipe of her arm across her brow and a smile.

Sookie rolled her eyes before pouring Lorelai a cup of coffee and placing a folder in front of her on the counter.

"Now, before you say anything, just listen. Joshua Lacky. 6' 4". Wealthy food critic… Any of this sounding appealing?"

Lorelai opened the folder and was faced with the picture of an apparently wealthy man… and a very handsome man at that.

Pretending to ponder for a moment, Lorelai assumed a sarcastic stance of thought before declaring, "Handsome and rich… Where do I sign up!"

Sookie clapped her hands and jumped up and down before saying, "Good, I'd hoped you'd say that. You're meeting tomorrow night at the Zinfandel Grill."

"Sookie!" Lorelai gasped as she watched the figure of her friend retreat out the door with a quick wave of her hand.

Turning back toward the counter, Lorelai thought, 'Joshua… Hmm… Nice name for a nice man,' before closing the folder and returning to her desk.

- - - - - - - - - -

The next evening, Lorelai was sitting at the table she shared with Joshua, hoping she wasn't being too rude by leaning on her hand and staring over his shoulder at the food received by the next table.

"So then I said, it's crazy to mix white wine with a pasta like this! You're just asking to be a three star restaurant! Do you know what I mean?"

"Oh, yeah… That wine," was the only response Lorelai could muster.

"It's so nice to go out with a woman who really understands where I'm coming from," Joshua began, taking Lorelai's hand, and forcing her to sit up straight, "And you are so beautiful."

"Gee… Thanks," Lorelai began, forming a plan.

"Ooo," she moaned, clutching her stomach.

"Are you alright?" Joshua asked worriedly.

"Yah, I think I might have had too much red wine and pasta combo. It's making me feel kinda sick."

"I knew that tasted funny," Joshua said angrily.

"Why don't you go tell the chef?" Lorelai suggested. "I'll wait here."

"Are you sure you're going to be alright alone for a minute?" he asked.

"I'll be fine… Trust me."

"Be right back," he said, releasing her hand and moving toward the rear of the restaurant.

"Finally! Freedom!" Lorelai said, before grabbing her purse and making a mad dash to the front door, barely hearing the inquiry of the hostess as she made way to her car.

"Thank God I had enough sense to say that I'd meet him here," she said as she unlocked the door and strapped herself in, starting the engine.

When she had reached the exit signaling that she was in Stars Hollow, Lorelai allowed some of the tension to ease out of her shoulders and off of the accelerator. Pulling over in front of the diner, she knew that dessert was in order as a treat for making it through the long evening.

She walked into the diner, still dressed in her cocktail dress and heels, plunking down at the counter.

Not seeing who the customer was, Luke shouted out from the kitchen, "What can I get you?"

With a little laugh, Lorelai answered, "The last four hours of my life back."

Luke's head came from behind the door way, and his facial expression showed his confusion and happiness at who was sitting in his diner. Wiping his hands on a rag, he inquired, "And why is that?"

"Because I just got back from one of the worst date of my life," Lorelai sighed.

Luke's face fell, and he merely grunted in response, as he suddenly became fascinated with cleaning his hands.

"I mean, all we talked about was food, of course, because he was a food critic, and I was so stupid to believe that I was ready to go through this mindless process of finding someone and then being let down again. I'm too old for this! That was the whole point of this evening, to get out again and to experience what I've been missing, but then I realized that I haven't been missing anything. I can't handle the monotony of going through men trying to find the perfect one. I want the one right now! Why can't I find him, Luke?"

Luke glanced up and moved away toward the back before announcing, "Maybe you're looking in all the wrong places. I assume you want ice cream?"

"Yah," Lorelai said, the frustration seeping out of her.

"Coming right up," Luke said, before turning toward the kitchen.

A few minutes passed before Luke came out of the kitchen, holding a large bowl of ice cream. Lorelai smiled enthusiastically, picking up a spoon in anticipation.

Luke placed the bowl carefully in front of her and rotated it a bit before stepping back from the counter and toward the kitchen again.

"See, you're the kind of man I need!" Lorelai announced, with a swoop of her spoon. "You keep me well fed and in the ice cream!"

Luke just nodded, and went into the kitchen, leaving Lorelai by herself.

"Mmm," Lorelai said, in anticipation of the treat awaiting her in the bowl. She stuck the spoon in and lifted a small helping to her mouth, savoring the vanilla and chocolate combination. She turned to gaze toward the bowl and gasped when she peered inside.

Written meticulously in chocolate syrup was a message saying, "Lorelai, will you go out with me?" With a look of confusion on her face, she dropped her spoon on the floor and picked up the bowl in further inspection.

From the kitchen, Luke could hear her tiny gasp, and the clatter of the spoon as it hit the floor. He smiled a little and went back to cleaning the stove.

Lorelai's stomach dropped after she fully thought about what Luke had just asked her. Could she date Luke? She swiveled off the seat at the counter and took small, slow steps toward the center of the room.

Luke could hear the hesitation in her steps and realized that she was leaving. He subconsciously began to scrub the grill harder as he waited for the tinkle of the bell that would seal his embarrassment. He waited, but it didn't come.

Feeling a small tap on his shoulder, he dropped his sponge in surprise and turned around. He was face to face with Lorelai's inquisitive stare. Luke blushed when he realized that they were less than a foot apart, and he cleared his throat like he always did when he was nervous.

"Are you aware that we keep experiencing really big moments through the guise of vanilla and chocolate?" Lorelai stated, as she held up the bowl to meet his gaze.

"Umm… Yes?" Luke answered.

"Good," Lorelai said with a smile. "Because you know that I can't refuse chocolate."

Luke's face pulled into a puzzled glare, and he began to ask Lorelai what exactly she meant by that, when her hand reached around the back of his neck and pulled him into their first kiss.

As soon as Luke's lips met hers, Lorelai knew that she was home, so she stopped running. Gradually she brought her other arm up around his neck, but the moment was penetrated by the sharp crack of porcelain as the ice cream bowl fell to the ground, breaking into a million pieces.

They pulled away from one another at this, Lorelai's hands still on the back of Luke's neck, and his arms around her waist.

"So is that a 'yes' to my question?" Luke inquired.

Lorelai smiled at his nervous demeanor.

"What do you think?" she countered, as she pulled him into another heated embrace…

… and on the floor, the chocolate and vanilla were mixing together among the shattered porcelain.

- - - - - - - - - -

Their first date was typical of any other they'd been on in their lifetimes. The man picked up the woman at her home, standing nervously on the porch with a bouquet of flowers and a pasted smile. The woman opened the door with gusto, the soft scent of perfume blowing across the man's face as he presented her with the flowers and took in the dress and frame of the one before him. The woman would then climb into the man's car and they'd be off to a romantic setting of candles and elegance.

The only difference was that this was Lorelai and Luke, and while they both carried the nervous air that could only be attributed to pre-date jitters, they knew each other and were comfortable in their own skin. There were no false fronts, no pretenses, only the personalities of two individuals who had waited their whole lives for this moment.

Luke, wisely, arrived ten minutes later than the original time he'd told her he'd arrive. He knew her too well already.

With a quick snap, she opened the door, hopping as she put on a high heeled shoe, before hurriedly telling Luke to come in and make himself comfortable, and that she'd be ready in two seconds.

Luke awkwardly settled himself on her couch, looking around the room anxiously. Fingering the red petals of the roses he brought her, he willed his stomach to settle down with a quick, "You can do this. You've known her for years."

"Ta-da!" was the announcement that presented Lorelai's impending arrival into the room, and Luke stood quickly.

"All ready!" she said. "Let's go!"

"Uh… Umm… These are for you," Luke said, shoving the flowers in her direction.

"Oh, Luke! They're beautiful!" she said, burying her face in the red roses.

Lorelai traipsed off to the kitchen, placing her new flowers in a vase, as Luke let out a sigh of relief that she'd liked his selection.

She came back into the room, placed a small kiss on his cheek, declared that she was famished, and headed out the door to his car.

Smiling, Luke followed the woman who changed his life.

- - - - - - - - - -

Two hours into the date, both realized that this was unusual. They'd known each other for years, had anticipated an awkward evening, and had not run out of things to discuss. From the new renovations made to the town gazebo all the way to Britney's new love affair, the conversation never lulled, leaving two wide-eyed adults in its wake.

When the night drew to a close, it was Lorelai who was feeling awkward. As she climbed from Luke's truck, she wanted to ask him in… or up, if being completely honest. Luke walked her to the door, sensing her general unease, and thinking himself to be the cause, he moved to his exit routine.

"Well, I had a really great time…" he began, shoving his hands in his pockets like a teenager.

"Oh, me too, me too," Lorelai said absently.

"Okay, goodnight," Luke said with a wave of his hand, before turning on his heel and heading toward the car.

"No, no, no," Lorelai said, stomping her foot and heading down the porch stairs after him. "No, it's not a good night yet."

Luke turned around just as Lorelai threw herself into his arms and said, "You didn't even kiss me!"

She then leaned up on her tip-toes and gave Luke a kiss that belayed all of the feelings she was keeping inside. As they melted into one another, Luke finally had to come back for some air.

"Wow… That was some goodnight," he said with a laugh.

Lorelai wound her arms around his neck and looked over his shoulder, saying, "You know, Luke, it's pretty dangerous for a helpless female to be staying by herself at night nowadays. I mean, robbers are just looking for someone like me who they can take advantage of…"

"What's your point?"

"Well, umm… wouldyouliketostaythenight?"

"What?" Luke asked, "I couldn't understand you."

Giving up her embarrassment, Lorelai lifted her head from Luke's shoulder and looked him in the eye, repeating her question.

"Yah, I think that can be arranged," Luke said with a smile, before kissing her again.

"I mean, I'll need to change those locks and stuff because you're totally right about robbers looking for your house… It's easy prey…" Luke rambled.

Lorelai laughed before taking his hand and leading him toward the house. "Forget staying the night," she said. "Would you like to stay forever?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Luke moved in three months later.

And that was just the beginning of the whirlwind romance that left Lorelai shaking and Luke asking himself why he hadn't made a move for her years before.

The town had rejoiced at the sight of their favorite bachelor and his longtime crush finally confirming what everyone had seen for years.

In the nine months that passed from their first date, to the day before yesterday, there had been so many firsts. Their first fight, their first shopping excursion, their first movie night, their first junk food day, and their first 'I love you.' Everything had been perfect, in the estimation of Lorelai and Luke, and neither could remember when they'd been happier.

But, like all good things, trouble started looming on the horizon. Luke could sense that Lorelai was getting restless of being in the same routine with him continuously, but whenever he asked if there was anything he could be doing differently, or if she was unhappy in any way, he was always met with the flippant wave of her hand.

After two weeks of this, Luke began to pull away, familiarizing himself in a cocoon of 'alone' that he'd been accustomed to for so many years. He began working longer hours at the diner, and came home later and later, and in a worse mood every time.

Lorelai knew what was going on, and simply smiled at him all of the time.

Luke knew they were over.

- - - - - - - - - -

Luke stood at the counter, wiping away the remnants of the dinner rush and beginning his habitual cleaning before closing. As he was taking the dirty plates to the kitchen, he heard the tinkle of the bell and the closing of the door.

"Make it quick!" he barked. "I'm closing in a minute."

"Alright," said Lorelai. "I'll wait."

Luke walked out from the kitchen and grumbled a quick, "What are you doing here?"

Lorelai simply smiled at him. "I'm going to make you dinner. Now scoot away from the counter and give me some room."

"Whaaaat?" Luke asked. "I don't think that this is safe. You and fire. You and cooking. It's all a bad idea."

"Nonsense," she said, kissing him on the cheek and putting on an apron.

So Luke sat at the counter and waited for whatever she had to give him. "Just make sure it's not too greasy!" he yelled into the kitchen.

He got no response.

"I mean it, Lorelai!" he warned, before crossing his arms and resuming his defensive posture.

Lorelai came out of the kitchen with a big bowl, and a spoon.

"Eat up!" was her only prompt, as she took off the apron and folded it, resuming Luke's job of cleaning the counter.

Luke took a big breath and promised himself that he'd get down at least five spoonfuls of whatever it was, if only for Lorelai's sake.

He peered inside the bowl at the creation she'd made, only to feel a familiar wash of deja-vu. He gulped and placed his spoon to the side of his bowl, reading in shock the 'Will you marry me?' written in chocolate across the ice cream that met his gaze.

Luke slowly lifted his gaze and was met with the expectant face of Lorelai. He stood up and made his way around the counter, taking her in his arms, and as the town settled down for the night, they stood in a tight embrace that could only be understood by the other.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A year had passed since their marriage, and the feelings of regret and sadness that used to control Lorelai's life was slowly melting away into feelings of love and happiness.

Sitting with Luke on the couch one November evening, Lorelai gazed at the movie they were watching and let her thoughts wander. She wondered how she could have such a wonderful thing happen to her after so much pain, and she knew instinctively that someone had to be watching out for her. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine Rory's death leading to a marriage to Luke, but as she turned her head to look at his sleeping figure, she knew that she was the luckiest woman alive.

Gingerly she rose from the sofa, cradling her stomach in her hands and waddling toward the ottoman to retrieve a blanket for Luke. Making her way back to the sofa, she curled up beside him, tucking her legs underneath her and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She reached over the back of the sofa and up to Luke's head, removing the baseball cap that was a permanent fixture and ruffling his hair into some semblance of normalcy.

When asked about her pregnancy and names for the baby, Lorelai simply smiled and told them that she would decide on a name when she felt it was necessary. When asked if she knew whether it was a boy or girl, she shrugged and smiled, explaining that she and Luke wanted it to be a surprise.

Sitting up a little more, Lorelai cradled her stomach in a semi-hug around the new life… her new life. Smiling, she started cooing a soft lullaby, fully believing that talking to the baby would give her the clear advantage over Luke. She knew it was a girl. She didn't have scientific proof from the doctor that her child was female, but she just knew.

Sighing, she picked up the blanket, eager to get some rest. She tossed an end across Luke, covering him, and she put her head on his shoulder and snuggled against his side.

Outside it started snowing. The first snow of the year… and once again, it was time for a fresh beginning…


End file.
